


breaking even.

by hidlaw



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brothers, Light Angst, POV Second Person, sibling dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26266933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidlaw/pseuds/hidlaw
Summary: ( You miss your brother but you would rather pull your own teeth out than to admit that. )
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 1
Kudos: 54





	breaking even.

**Author's Note:**

> you can never have enough miya twins dynamic.
> 
> after reading and being inspired by [noyabeans's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdrops/pseuds/noyabeans/works?fandom_id=758208) fics and writing journal, i decided to give it a try and fill in atsumu's pov. please do give their [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22386316) a read!

It's been five days since you last spoke. Both of you are extremely stubborn so there's no telling of when this cold war is going to end. Osamu sits behind you just a few feet away but the silence between you makes it seem like miles.

You are too aware of his presence like it's a target. You want to hit him, push him, kick him, yell at him, argue with him, rile him up and you want him to do it all back.

But you can't. So you keep your fists to yourself and bite your tongue.

( You miss your brother but you would rather pull your own teeth out than to admit that. )

* * *

It started out as an argument. Practice was shit and so were Osamu's spikes. It was irritating, like he wasn't even trying. Here you are giving it past 100% and the scrub is slacking off. It could be a bad day but you were never great at telling. So you push and you demand and you become twice the asshole that you already are.

“Like hell I'm gonna toss to a scrub like ya when we go pro! I don't need a spiker like ya!”

You expect his usual jibe, a fire to match yours, but instead you get something harsh and cold.

“Good thing I ain't goin' pro then. You're not gettin' a spiker like me.”

It comes out too brazen that you wonder if he's just saying that to spite you. Then you meet Osamu's eyes and you know that he isn't.

( You remember telling Osamu of your dreams. It was a wintry night when you couldn't sit still and you found yourself hungry and more ambitious than ever. You tell him how you're gonna win nationals first and how the recruitment letters are gonna flood in. You tell him how you'll both try out for the best team that wants you, and from there it's a steady climb to the Division 1 teams. That's how it starts. Brother and brother, standing on court and conquering the world. )

The dream rips cleanly into two and you try to scramble for it, try to reach out and fix it. Instead, you find yourself gripping at Osamu's jacket and you're hissing.

“Stop fuckin' around, Samu!” You're scared but your words come out angry.

You don't really hear what he says after, not that it matters. Nothing he says right then is ever going to reach you.

You feel him clawing at your arms and push you back, hear his harsh breathing after or maybe that's your own. He says something about trying to find what else that makes him happy and there's already a shit ton of venom locked behind your teeth. If you were a level headed person, you would've let him talk and listened. But you're not, so you storm in your room and shut the door as loudly as you can.

* * *

You hide at the rooftop of your school, can of soda in hand and a strawberry pocky between your lips. The sun is sinking into the horizon and it bleeds out orange hues. It's the only time you ever skip practice.

It's too quiet without the others around, none of the familiar warmth is sitting on your chest, but you think it's a safe place nonetheless. Your thoughts are loud everywhere but at least you can face them here.

If you can start, that is. Granted, screaming would be easier. Every time you try to pick an emotion apart from the rest, you realize that it's so ugly that you shove it back down your throat where it rots and festers and it leaves you back to square one where you're just dying a little inside.

But right now, with the sunset in front of you and how it bathes everything in a warm orange, nothing is ugly and you can finally admit that you hate everything that's going on.

You hate it. _You absolutely hate it._

For fuck's sake, you do everything together. _You're a pair._ And suddenly Osamu decides to just _stop_. The rational part of your brain tells you that Osamu is his own person and he can do whatever the hell he wants. You know that. But the irrational part, that one that's loud and hurting, is telling you that there's something missing and it just might be your brother leaving you alone.

That’s not true. You know it’s not. So you don't understand why it's tearing at you like this.

It shouldn't even be a big deal. It's not like you're dependent of your brother. The youth training camp proved that. You can make use of any spiker thrown your way. 

And yet you found yourself wishing for Osamu to be there, to show off your wicked quicks and how he can hit your demanding sets and that crazy switch that reflects years of practice and synchronization.

You want all of that.

It's going to take a while for you to accept that Osamu wants something more.

When the sky turns into an inky blue, your soda can is empty and all your pocky's gone. You realize that despite all the anger and hate, none of it is aimed at your brother.

Under all that sourness, and it's a lot of sourness at the moment, you're glad that he's choosing something he loves. Just like you are. It's just a different road, that's all.

You just hope that your different roads won't take you two that far apart.

* * *

You catch yourself thinking about it again and it must show on your face because Suna's in insult range and he's not biting your head off. In fact, everyone is treading carefully around you two lately.

With a quiet sigh, you finish bandaging your hands, ready to get the hell out of there, when you lift your head and accidentally meet your brother's gaze.

Osamu snaps first and you've never been so relieved. You glare at him to show this.

“I made up my mind a long time ago. I wanna go ahead with food service and that's that. And just because you're going pro doesn't mean you get the better life.” 

He steps in front of you and easily grabs you by the collar of your jacket. Osamu grits his teeth. “If you're so dang confident, so dang **_sure_ ** that you'll be the happy one, then come back when we're 80-year-old geezers.

“Wait until then to laugh in my face and say you're happier!”

A challenge. Now that's familiar. You two have always thrived off of challenges, making sure to do better than the other. Doesn't matter what it's about. You will never lose to Osamu and Osamu will never lose to you.

“ _Fine_. If that's how ya like it,” Now you're grabbing Samu's collar too, knuckles white. “When we're on our deathbeds, m'gonna turn and look ya right in yer face and say I had the happier life!”

You shove each other away but the tension is dwindling now. The bastard's smiling, you realize. Or whatever it is that's close to a smile while eager to prove to you that he's gonna come out on top. Maybe you are too. 

Whatever it is that you think you lost, it's back now and you feel like a whole person again.


End file.
